Concept album in progress

Hey, well here's the lyrics for a concept album I'm currently working on, it's about half done. It's one continuous piece of music. It's about a city that is destroyed by a flood and reclaimed by nature.

1Cold and grey now grows the sunOn a city morning, just begunTeeming millions walk and run On the spot- and all that’s lost and wonCan be counted in a second, and mightUnder that indifferent light.

Metal fingers moon stretched striveWhile Balcony emperors yawn and thriveAnd do their best to hedonizeBy collecting toys that they despiseLike golden sofas and things that singbut only sorrow do their riches bring.

The asphalt tears in the searing heat Of the rat-race morning’s busy feet.When frenzy dawns upon the street,Flocks of confusion run to meetWith bitter fates and tired graceLines of weakness in every face.

2

Mary lives under a bridge by the riverIn a semi-detached cardboard spaceAnd deep into the dark night as she shiversHer thoughts turn to her imminent fate,To retire – get up somewhere higher On the property ladderAnd the food chainGet up where it’s drier –To be ready when the flood comes in.

Sam Jones runs a café on Castle StreetHe wakes every day at five to eightAnd rubs his hands together to keep in the heatAnd him and his wife, well they just can’t waitTo retire – get up somewhere higher On the property ladderAnd the food chainGet up where it’s drier –To be ready when the flood comes in.

3

Sarah Green cleans the station every morningAnd evening, with a battered plastic broom.And yawning she dreams of the momentThat cannot come too soon,To retire – get up somewhere higherOn the property ladderAnd the food chainGet up where it’s drier –To be ready when the flood comes in.

Mr Smith lives in a tower of polished glassThat rings with a thousand telephonesBut he is only flesh and bone.And his dream is not his own,To retire – get up somewhere higher On the property ladderAnd the food chainGet up where it’s drier –To be ready when the flood comes in.

4

As the shining towers come tumbling downPeople come and gather aroundThey gasp and applaud with a crashing soundAs their labours are glimpsed, lost, and unwoundLike broken clocks that are tossed awayOnto the hard unfeeling clay.

And juggernauts howl on worn out pathsCarry absurd loads of diamond and glassTo society ladies glowing and vastWhile starving millions wander past.Some see themselves in coins they’ve beggedAnd others in a mirror that hangs by their bed.

Grey metal flesh and brittle bonesSprout in twisted urban zonesSteel roots tearing through stoneGlass boughs reaching unknownHeights, and when the worst is confirmedThe city will fall by its own bastard worm.

PART 2

Deluge

Drowned rats in waterproof macs soaked through,Despite their armour,shelter under parapets, getting wet.Framed in library windows,Librarians clutch desperately at booksAnd wait for the storm to passbut the rain keeps falling.

The A55 is flooded, all exits are blocked.No chance of a quick escape by car,And my home is far.I think of all that has drowned -labyrinths and cities vast.This vulnerability can’t last,And the rain keeps falling.